


Blinding lights

by gayformajima



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, fuckin uhhhhhhhhh, helens there! for chapter 1 atleast, jonmichael, spoiler warning related to season 3, tags to be added in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayformajima/pseuds/gayformajima
Summary: Jon get's his vacation away from the archives rudely interrupted by a horrible deal offered up to him by the new miss Distortion.Gay in bound.I'm not good at summaries.
Relationships: Michael | The Distortion/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Blinding lights

Jon breathes out a tired sigh, his hands carelessly fumble through his front jacket pockets for his apartment keys. It'd only been 1 day back at the archives and it absolutely drained everything out of him.

He'd only just gotten back from 2 weeks worth of absolute chaos, bullshit fear rituals and putting up with Elias's cryptic bull.

'Speaking of that arse...' Jon pulls out a slip of paper requesting that Jon "take some time for himself" and that "it's unhealthy to work while under stress".  
His brow furrowed 'I don't need notes written in saccharine concern, telling me to take care of myself!' He spat in his head, shoving the folded letter back where he found it. 'At least I don't have to put up with him for a long while.'  
"Where the hell did i put my keys...?" He grumbles lowly, now frantically searching every possible pocket until his fingers finally caught on something metallic.

Jingle jingle.  
He quickly clicks the lock open and steps inside the door, locking his front door with the same pace. He shrugs off his jacket and shoes, he slams his body down into the soft cushion of his couch; completely being consumed with exhaustion as soon as laid down.

His vision blurs as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, ever threatening to close and never open again. Just as he was about to embrace sleep, a sharp, piercing ring rips him out of its grasp.

His body shoots upright, both his heart and head pounding from fear and adrenaline; his eyes dart around the room for any oddities before sharply halting on the oddity.

'Oh you've got to be kidding me..'.  
There, to the left of his front door, was another door.

A yellow door.

Just his luck that he can't go one day without a supernatural entity busting down his door, though he guesses it'd be more busting in their own door.

He pushes his tired body up from the couch and grabs the nearest, dangerous object he could find to defend himself with.

Which happens to be a suitcase!

He keeps his eyes on the yellow door, clutching the handle of his suitcase in anticipation and preparation to spring into action if this surprise visit goes south.

The piercing ring heightens in intensity as the doorknob begins to slowly turn, the door creaking as its pushed open; an echoing laughter floods the room as the door swings open.

"Hello Archivist~!" Jon raises his weapon upon seeing Helen step into his apartment, his knuckles going white from his tight grip on its handle.

"What do you want?" If he was about to get dragged into the hallways, he's not going down without a fight.

He watched Helen's face quickly shift from a smile to a bewildered look, before bursting out into a fit of laughter; Jon's grip loosens slightly in confusion.

She takes a few minutes to calm herself, wheezing slightly as she regains her composure.

"I really hadn't expected this of you, but really? A suitcase?" She covers her mouth with her freakish long hands, trying to hold back another bout of laughter.

"What're you gonna do? Hit me over the head with it? Then stuff me inside and throw me over a bridge??"

Jon's intense stance was now pitiful as each jab helen took at his defense deflates rapidly, he's not even holding the suitcase up anymore.

The distortion wipes a tear from her eye, her demeanor now having chilled out from making fun of Jon.

Jon clears his throat as he questions her motive for being here again. "What do you want, besides mocking me."

She fixes the collar of her blouse before reaching out behind her and pulling the blonde out from hiding; It was....Michael?

The bottom half of his face was covered in a thick wrap of bandages, his right eye was shut tight as well.

His outward attitude was drastically different as well, he looked more....somber and dull in color. It almost felt eerie to Jon."I just have a mere...request of you, if you'd kindly listen, Archivist."

Jon's brow raised, his curiosity itching at the back of his mind. He wants to ask so badly as to why Michael is not only ALIVE but looks...like that, though he is wary of what those answers might be.

"And...what might that be?" He asks.

Helens smile widens as she plainly answers. "I was wondering if you'd look after Michael for me, just for a while until he recovers!"

Jon takes a moment to process, his brow furrowed again in contemplation and confusion. 'Why on God's earth does she want me to essentially take care of a fear???'

"Absolutely not." He stated sternly, he folds his arms over one another.

"Aww come on, It'd be fun!!" Helen chimes. "All you really need to do is just change the bandages and keep an eye on him!"

Her pleadings don't change Jon's firm stance, really they're making him more adamant about the idea.

"I'm not keeping an 'eye' on something that's tried to kill me more then once!" His firm reaction all but makes Helen laugh again.

"Oh..he never had the heart!" Michael, who was mostly quiet for most of the bickering, takes immediate offense to Helen outing of him and elbows her.

"Oi!" She winces momentarily from his jab, before hitting him in the shoulder in retaliation. "Don't be rude!"

Jon, clearly unamused by the childish exchange between them, loudly clears his throat to draw their attention back to the matter at hand, both distortions giving each other a glare as Helen picks up where she left off. Something on the kitchen counter catches Michaels attention. He weaves past the both of them in the midst of their bickering, and reaches out to the tape recorder. Gently, he holds it in his hands.

The small machine wrr’s and hums against his palms, the red light above the word ‘RECORDING’ blinking. The familiarity of it made his chest hurt.

“Look, I just need him out of my hair until he’s not a pest to deal with. I’ll even sweeten the deal with you and throw in a safety net for when you feel you aren’t up to the task or threatened!” Jon raises his brow in response to the mentioned ‘safety net’.

Though the assumption that Jon wouldn’t be up to the task in taking care of Michael made him miffed slightly, something about how the distortion worded it just gets under his skin a little. ‘Does she think I’d just chicken out so easily? I’ve dealt with far worse situations and handled them perfectly fine!’ The more he though on her offer, the more willing he felt to take it.

“What kind of safety net exactly? Do I just knock on a door a specified number of times?” 

“Oh no no no! Don’t be so silly Archivist.” Helen fishes out a key from the breast pocket of her coat, takes a step closer to Jon and drops it in his hands. “As fun as that sounds, it’d be far too sensible.”

She leans her face in real close, both of their noses just a hair away from bumping each other. “It’s a skeleton key.” Jon could’ve sworn he felt a shock hit his face as she spoke, leaving a stinging sensation. She exits his personal bubble with a sly smile plastered on her face. “Just insert the key into any door you find yourself next to and boom!” She makes a explosion motion with her slender, long hands, explicitly landing a small hit on Michael, who was now standing next to her again.

“I’ll come out and take this nerd back off of your hands!” She sings, her hand firmly placed ontop of a displeased looking Michael’s head, giving him a small shake as she annunciates ‘this nerd’.

Jon holds his chin and thumbs it, taking offer and safety net in consideration, along with his ever growing determined reason to prove to her he can handle this. He does not like being underestimated, even at the cost of possibly being put through a new form of hell.

He sighs, internally he knows that’s not the only reason as to why he felt the desire to take the ex-distortion in. Their discussion or ‘vent session’, as one might call it, made him feel some form of pity for Michael. At least, he thinks it’s pity, it’s normal to feel the desire to help someone whose clearly had a rough time.

‘But something about this feels, more then that...’ Jon brushes the thought away, feeling he might be overthinking a simple gesture. “Fine, but I want you to promise me to not ever-”

“-And I mean EVER, ask another favor of me. Deal?”

The rising of Jon’s voice does not remotely diminishes Helen’s happy exterior, strangely enough, it makes her beam ever so brighter. “Deal~!” She extends her hand towards Jon. Jon hesitantly accepts the handshake.

Just as they were about to pull away from each other, Jon’s eye catches something red, Blinking brightly in-between Michaels claws.

He squints, unsure if it was a mere curl of distorted light coming off the distortion or....a tape recorder? Michael, much to his dismay, had been trying to turn the device off the whole time the two had been making the deal, as Jon could see from the various deep claw marks, scarring the plastic surface of the power button.

“I’d be cautious by what you put in his hands by the by, Archivist. We are rather...sharp.” Jon makes a mental note of Helen’s words, carefully grabbing ahold of his clawed up tape recorder out of Michaels grasp. It’d been the closest he’d ever gotten to the blonde, in a while at least, it wasn’t the first of course. He felt the same, overwhelming static that emitted off of the ex-distortion, one thing was different though. Michael smelled intensely of coffee. 

“Right...I’ll have to look into getting lion sized claw caps, if they even exist.” His thumb presses down on the power button, the wrr’ing of the tape recorder coming to an immediate halt.

Click.


End file.
